


It'll work out (Somehow)

by traumschwinge



Series: Patchwork [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mpreg, Relationship Negotiation, frenemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: Geralt had a well-working truce with Emhyr. As long as they didn't ever talk about anything that didn't concern Ciri directly, they could pretend to be civil. But when Geralt goes into one of his rare Heats, with only his teenage daughter around to help, she does the only sensible thing she can think of: calling her other parent.Now Geralt has to deal with an Alpha he can barely stand while suffering under his Heat.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Patchwork [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977076
Comments: 15
Kudos: 250





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I intended nothing of this, but it happened, I had fun, and now I'm sharing it.
> 
> If ABO isn't yours, please, stop right here. I tried my best to keep it as consensual as possible, but you know how ABO is. There's always a lingering hint of dubcon when you look for it.

Geralt felt like he was burning up from the inside. The shirt of his PJs was clinging to his chest. He’d already kicked his blanket off in his sleep but he was still too hot. It had been so long since the last time. He’d almost forgotten what it was like, how bad it felt. His entire body felt wrong. Too tight, too itchy, too hot, not like his at all, like it had a will of his own.

He groaned into his pillow.

It had been years since his last heat. He’d thought it was finally over. He hadn’t even needed suppressants in a good long while. And now it was back and as bad as it had been when he’d been in his teens. He could already feel the onset of the next wave threatening to overwhelm him.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been drifting between consciousness and delirium. It had to be quite a while when he felt a cool hand being pressed to his forehead.

“Dad, are you alright?” Ciri asked, her voice straining with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Geralt tried to answer, but his throat and tongue just wouldn’t cooperate.

“You’re burning up,” Ciri noted. “Ice? Would ice help? Water?” She removed her hand and Geralt more heard than watched her leave. There were noises from the kitchen, the sound of running water, the opening and closing of the freezer, and then Ciri was back, pressing something hard and icy cold to his forehead. “I put a glass of water on your nightstand,” she explained softly.

Geralt nodded. If he managed to pull himself together to find his suppressants in the nightstand, he could use the water to take the pills.

He was almost ready to drift back to sleep, when he heard the familiar doots of a connecting call.

“Father? It’s me, Ciri… No, I’m fine. I’m fine, really. It’s Geralt…” Ciri said into her phone. Geralt took a moment to process her words, but when he did, he forced himself upright, in a feeble attempt to take the phone from Ciri. Ciri fought him off single handedly, pushing him back down with a stern look. “I think he’s sick. He’s running a fever and has trouble talking. ...yes, I think there’s dizziness, too… ...I’m late for school already, but I don’t want to leave him like this… uh-hu… yeah… I’ll wait. Thank you, father.”

“Why him…?” Geralt croaked out. “Not him. Not now.”

“Who else?” Ciri brushed a wet strand of hair from Geralt’s forehead. “There isn’t anyone else I can call about missing school. And he’d have been called by them anyway when I don’t show up for classes.”

Geralt whined. “Don’t want him around.” Which wasn’t entirely true. His body was already burning even hotter at the thought of having an alpha close. Only his mind recoiled at the thought of said alpha being Emhyr. At best, Emhyr would see him at his weakest. At worst, Emhyr would actually take advantage of his state. Geralt shuddered at the thought.

“You never do,” Ciri said softly. “But he’s still my father. He’ll help. For me.”

“No…” Geralt protested, but his voice was already giving out again. He tried to get up, but his arm was shaking too much to push him up when he put weight on it. He reached for the nightstand. Maybe if he took his pills right now, he’d be alright by the time Emhyr got to their apartment. Or at least alright enough to fight him off if he had to.

Ciri mistook his struggles for him wanting to drink. She held the glass to his lips and patiently waited for him to swallow a few gulps before she took it away again.

“Try sleeping some more, okay?” she whispered softly. “I’ll be right here if you need something.”

Geralt couldn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time he opened his eyes again, Emhyr was standing next to his bed, staring down at him with his usual expression of slight disdain. Ciri wasn’t in the room with them.

“Ciri’s at school,” Emhyr explained, as if he could read Geralt’s thoughts. Geralt hated it so much when he did that. “You do know there’s pills against …” He waved his hand around. “This.”

“Fuck you,” Geralt growled out, even though his body was straining as if it wanted to scream “fuck me”.

Emhyr rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is there anything you require for comfort? Where do you keep your suppressants? You cannot possibly believe I want to stay longer than strictly necessary to make sure you don’t die or lose it entirely.”

Geralt very firmly pressed his lips together. He could smell Emhyr. He was sure Emhyr could smell him even better. But still the bastard was as calm as ever, as if Geralt couldn’t affect him in any way. “Just go.”

“Geralt.” Emhyr’s voice turned sharp, commanding. “Where. Are. Your. Heat. Suppressants?”

“Nightstand.”

Emhyr was definitely rolling his eyes before he pulled open the drawer and rummaged around in it. Geralt pretended he didn’t notice Emhyr pause when he touched the pack of condoms. Not so unaffected after all, he thought with grim satisfaction. It still was a relief when Emhyr found the pills, even though he pulled another face when he looked at the best-before. “They’re almost expired,” Emhyr complained. He still popped two of them out of their blister next to the refilled glass of water. “You’ll have to take them yourself. I want to touch you even less than you undoubtedly want me to touch you.”

He waited patiently two paces back from the bed until Geralt had managed to take the pills and wash them down with water, despite his shaking hands.

“Ciri will be staying with me until you are feeling better again,” Emhyr informed him. “Do call if you need anything. Don’t open the door for anyone.” And with that, Emhyr left.

Geralt sank back into his pillow with a groan. Emhyr had been wrong about at least one thing. He had wanted to be touched. He still wanted to be touched. That was the worst part about being in heat. He wanted to be touched by just about anyone that could promise him pleasure. Even if it was the bastard who was Ciri’s biological father. Even if he hated his guts. Even if he would hate himself once it was over. He wanted it, because it would make it all so much more bearable.

* * *

Being alone and with the suppressants working, Geralt could at least find some relief in masturbation. Other than that, he mostly slept and waited for the ordeal to be over.

On the third day, he was feeling somewhat better. It wasn’t as bad as the first two days anymore. He wasn’t desperate to be bred anymore, at least, and his body wasn’t burning up and writhing all the time, thank all the gods who fucking cared about his misery. It was good that Emhyr had taken Ciri, he could now admit. He wouldn’t keep her, after all the man had no time to look after a teenager. It was the main reason he hadn’t stripped Geralt of custody, merely demanded for them to share it. They shared it in that Geralt was there for Ciri all the time, like a parent, and Emhyr paid for everything she needed and then some. But the school still called Emhyr in emergencies, and the first time Geralt had shown up to a parent-teacher conference, the confused teacher had asked him where his alpha husband was. It had been very awkward to explain that no, he wasn’t bonded to Emhyr and would rather slit his throat than even consider it, without shouting. The teachers had never asked again after that incident.

In the evening of the third day, Geralt had just settled in with a book, when he heard a key turn in the lock of the apartment door. “I’ll put this in the kitchen,” he could hear Emhyr say. He had barely put the book down, before Ciri burst into his room and jumped into his arms, hugging him tight. “Geralt, I’m so glad you’re better,” she mumbled against his neck. “I was so worried. Father said he made you take pills against it, but he wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong and I just…”

Geralt stroked her back. “I’ll be fine in another couple of days. It’s alright.”

He could feel her nod.

“Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s ok. You didn’t get sick on purpose.” She pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “I just wish I knew what to do. I was so helpless.”

“You did good,” Geralt quickly assured her. “You did the right thing.” Even if that right thing had been calling Emhyr.

“Father said it has something to do with you being not just a man, but an omega,” Ciri muttered. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, kicking her feet. “But he wouldn’t tell me anything. Said it was your job to explain. I think it makes him uncomfortable. I can just… google it or something, if that’s easier.”

Geralt sighed. It would be easier, but also definitely the wrong way for her to learn about heats. He wondered what they were learning in school if she didn’t even know the basics. Probably nothing, to satisfy those queasy parents who hoped that as long as nobody taught the kids about sex, reproduction, and reproductive health, they’d never have sex. “That’s a long talk,” he admitted. “But… when I’m better, we will have it. I promise.”

“Father doesn’t want to be in a room with you,” Ciri whispered conspiratorially. “Does that have to do with it, too?”

“You’d think he’d enjoy seeing me miserable,” Geralt huffed. He felt good enough to joke, which was a relief. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Kitchen, we bought soup for you.”  
“Afraid I’d starve?”

“Well, I do know better than you what’s in the pantry and fridge, and father said you shouldn’t go out in your _condition_ , so, we really didn’t have a choice.”

Geralt nodded. He’d been shocked to see that all they had was half a box of noodles but nothing to make a sauce with earlier that day. And he really didn’t want to go outside. The risk was just too great. Which only made him wonder why Emhyr would care whether he stayed inside during his heat.  It couldn’t be that Emhyr suddenly cared about him. Most likely, he was worried he’d have to take care of Ciri  for once if Geralt got abducted or hurt.

“Thanks, Ciri.”

She hugged him again. “I gotta get a book for school from my room,” she muttered sheepishly as she let go.

“Just go.” Geralt rolled his eyes fondly. “But say goodbye before you leave, you hear me?” he called after her when she was already dashing out of the room. He was almost ready to curl back up for a brief nap, when he noticed Emhyr hovering around the door. “What?”

“I merely wondered…” Emhyr cleared his throat. “Do you require any comfort food? Cirilla picked the soups we got, but I wasn’t sure if you wouldn’t like some ice cream or chocolate, too.”

Geralt squinted at him. In his state, he had no chance at figuring out what game Emhyr was currently playing with him. He was, however, convinced there was a catch to the offer. “’m fine.”

“All I wanted was to help, Geralt,” Emhyr sighed.

“Sure.” Geralt crossed his arms in front of his chest. It kept him from fidgeting too much. “An unbonded alpha helps an unbonded omega out of the goodness of his fucking heart. Try again, Emhyr.”

Emhyr rubbed the bridge of his nose. He did that a lot when talking to Geralt. Geralt hoped it was because he kept causing Emhyr headaches. “Would you rather I had ulterior motives?” Emhyr’s voice was getting dangerously low. “Would you rather I succumbed to my instincts, instead of fighting them?”

Geralt couldn’t help the needy moan escaping him when he breathed in Emhyr’s scent. As wrong as it was, as much as he knew Emhyr was right, his body still ached for touch.  A part of him wanted to be held down and fucked into the mattress for hours. It didn’t matter much by whom.

Through hazy eyes, he saw Emhyr press a hand to his nose as he staggered back. He was calling for Ciri to find him in the car when she was done, before he fled the apartment.

Geralt pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes in desperation and shame.

* * *

Geralt agonized over his words to Emhyr all night. Maybe Emhyr had been trying to be nice. Probably out of pity. Or maybe because… Well, it wasn’t like Geralt didn’t know Emhyr had been bonded once. It was hard to forget with Ciri being the result of it. So, maybe a part of Emhyr remembered what Pavetta’s heats had been like and wanted to relieve some of Geralt’s agony without… without _succumbing to their instincts,_ as Emhyr had put it.

The worst part was that he’d really like some chocolate ice cream.

Alright, no, the worst part was that Geralt still wanted to be bred. And Emhyr was looking more and more like a decent choice of temporary partner.

Frustrated, Geralt grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He wouldn’t beg. But he could say that he was sorry.

...or at least text Emhyr the word sorry.

Surprisingly, Emhyr texted him back within minutes. “Not your fault,” it read.

“A little bit my fault.” Geralt searched the emoji keyboard for one that would convey sheepishness, then gave up when he couldn’t find one. Ciri said he should use more emojis, but Emhyr probably didn’t care or thought they were a waste of time to parse.

Emhyr’s next reply was prompt. “It would indeed be much easier were you not you, yes.” Geralt snorted. Another text. “But less entertaining.” That made Geralt roll his eyes. Fuck you, too, Emhyr.

“Right,” Geralt texted back. “So” He didn’t know how to phrase what he wanted. In the end, he opted for blunt honesty. “Why are you helping?”

The app told him Emhyr was typing for a while, but no new messages arrived. Geralt was already toying with the idea of doing something else, like going back to watching porn, when Emhyr finally responded. “For Ciri, obviously.” Brief. Stiff. And complete and utter bullshit. Why was Geralt not surprised?

“for real” Geralt typed and then deleted it. It was part of the truth. But not even close to the full truth. “And?” he prompted.

“I do not owe you further explanations,” Emhyr shot back. Geralt could easily picture his face as he’d written that, stern and annoyed and very much displeased at Geralt’s general existence. It was a face he got to see often, most of the time thanks to his own doing.

“Cmon,” Geralt texted, then, in rapid succession, each word a new text: “Please? Please? Cmon. Tell me. Tell meeeeeee.” He’d learned that strategy from Ciri. She tended to use it to get him to buy takeout.

“Stop that. I will block you.”

Geralt grinned at the empty threat. “U can’t. I’m raising our daughter.” He was sure he’d typed “ur” until he’d already sent the message and reread it. He couldn’t help groan at the implication. It wasn’t how he’d meant it.

When he dared look at his phone again, he had three new messages from Emhyr. They read: “It’s infuriating and confusing to me.” and “She is my daughter. But she always smells like you. And you are not mine.” Finally “Happy now?”  
Geralt stared at the texts dumbfounded. Was he getting this right? Emhyr was mad that Geralt wasn’t his? Or was he mad that Ciri was at least as much Geralt’s daughter as she was his? Complicated. Too complicated to be sussed out before his heat was over, Geralt decided.

“Tmi” he typed. Then, “That’s pretty crazy. Weird.”

This time, when Emhyr didn’t respond, Geralt did open the browser on his phone. His favorite porn site was still open. And his body was already aching again, his ass still uncomfortably wet from earlier. He slipped his free hand under the covers to play with himself while be browsed the porn selection for something to jerk off to.

He was into the second promising clip, when a push notification at the top of the screen announced a new message from Emhyr. Geralt bit back a whine. He had noticed that he’d been looking for alpha tops with black hair and sharp profiles. He didn’t need the reminder what he was doing. And Emhyr was frustratingly nice. All he was asking was “Will your suppressants last? I could call your PCP for you, if you need another prescription.”

Geralt didn’t doubt for a second that Emhyr would be able to convince his doctor that he had every right to refill Geralt’s prescription for him. And he was on the last blister, with a couple of days more to go. They wouldn’t last. He bit his lip. Forcing himself to let go of his hard dick, he texted back: “I’ll run out soon. Thank you.”

* * *

Emhyr didn’t respond until that evening. “Left the pharmacy. You got 10 minutes to get yourself decent,” his text read. Geralt read it over a bowl of soup he’d just heated up. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in ages, but more than a soup wouldn’t stay down long. Ciri really had done well taking care of him. He’d have to make sure to tell her.

Unsurprisingly, Emhyr was punctual almost to the second. To Geralt’s shock, he let himself in with a key Geralt hadn’t known he had.

He could hear Emhyr walk to his bedroom, then pause, and walk toward the kitchen. Emhyr was glowering slightly at Geralt. “This place reeks,” he complained. He tossed the box of suppressants to Geralt. “You w ill air it out before Cirilla comes back.”

“Yes, of course,” Geralt huffed. “Sorry for trying to make myself comfortable with what I can in this shitty situation.”

“If you are well enough to talk back again, I presume you’ll be back to yourself in no time.” Emhyr was glaring, but then he went still when he drew a breath through his nose. “How many times…?” he gasped. He shook his head. “I do not want to know. Glad you don’t need anyone to take care of you.”

Geralt’s gaze zeroed in on Emhyr’s crotch. He couldn’t help it. Emhyr had been hiding it well, but now that Geralt had noticed it, he couldn’t stop staring at the hard cock straining against the fabric of Emhyr’s slacks. He shifted uncomfortably. His body was already reacting, whether he wanted or not.

E mhyr had to have noticed his gaze, because he turned half away and snapped, “Stop that!”

“Would you like to watch me take care of myself?” The words were out of Geralt’s mouth before his brain could stop him. It was almost worth it for Emhyr’s horrified reaction, eyes wide and fists clenched. “You sounded like you want me, earlier,” Geralt purred. “I don’t mind. Not now. I want this.” He was already pulling off his shirt.

For a second, he was almost convinced Emhyr would give in, but then his expression shifted to as mask of anger. “Are you out of your mind from your heat?!”

“Nothing’s enough, because you keep coming by,” Geralt whined. “Nothing. I can do what I want and it’s not enough. Emhyr, I need this.”

E mhyr pressed the back of his fist against his nose. He’d retreated back into the hallway to get more and more distance between them. “Get a hold of yourself,” he pressed out.

Certainly not what Emhyr’d meant, but Geralt gave his cock a slow stroke through his sweatpants anyway. “Already have myself well in hand,” he panted. He was slipping, on instinct, from the kitchen chair to his knees. If Emhyr wanted him on his back and begging before he gave in to both their instincts, Geralt wasn’t too proud anymore to do it.

He watched Emhyr closely from the floor, how he was desperately looking for an escape and then some sort of realization slowly dawning. “Are we,” Emhyr swallowed thickly. “Are we agreed this was your idea?”

“Yeah, sure,” Geralt beamed. That sounded promising. Hell, right now, he’d even ask Ciri’s permission, if that would have been Emhyr’s condition, to get what he wanted.

Emhyr nodded, once, sharply. “Get on your bed, then,” he ordered, standing as far out of the way as he could to let Geralt through without them touching. “Just, give me a moment,” he added when Geralt was looking at him in confusion. “I’ll have to tell Cirilla I’ll be home late tonight.”

Geralt stopped near Emhyr for a moment. The distress from earlier was still there, but hidden under an entirely new hunger Geralt had never seen on Emhyr before. “Hurry,” he breathed, doing his best to sound demure and not as desperately needy as he felt. Emhyr glared at him angrily enough to make Geralt retreat to his bedroom before he changed his mind.

He dropped his sweatpants on his way to the bed. He wasn’t sure how long Emhyr would take, whether he’d just text Ciri or call her. Not taking any chances, he flopped down on his belly, legs spread, chest pressed to the mattress. He knew he was already wet, that he didn’t need any preparation, not after how much time he’d spent jerking off with a dildo filling his ass since his heat had set in. Still, he reached behind, pushing his fingers inside.

He moaned from the relief of finally having something inside again. Not that he ever wanted to notice it, but his heat made him crave the feeling of being filled at any time. He moved his fingers lazily, more to play with himself than to satisfy anything. He’d have Emhyr for that in a moment.

A soft gasp told him Emhyr had entered the room. The mattress dipped under Emhyr’s weight. Geralt shuddered when Emhyr brushed his flat hand over his side. “You’re…” Emhyr murmured, and then stopped. He withdrew his hand. Geralt was about to protest when he heard a zipper being undone.

“Pass me one of the condoms,” Emhyr said.

Geralt took a few seconds to process what he had heard. He was too distracted by Emhyr touching him again, stroking his ass. “Just stick it in,” Geralt finally whined. He wasn’t stretching all the way for the nightstand drawer just because Emhyr was afraid he’d, what, get pregnant in his old age? “No condom. Just stick it in.”

He knew Emhyr was about to protest, to fight him on this. Because Emhyr always knew better and had to make sure Geralt was aware of that. Which wouldn’t do. Geralt pressed back, into the hand on his ass, trying to push against Emhyr. The grip on him tightened, hard enough to bruise. Geralt moaned.

And Emhyr’s self-control finally, finally, cracked.

He gripped Geralt’s hips with both hands, driving into him in one long push. Geralt moaned louder, clawing at the bed sheet. Finally, finally, was all he could think as he pressed back, allowed his instincts to take over, those that wanted him to be filled and fucked until he forgot his own name. Emhyr was over him, pushing him down with his weight and a steady hand between Geralt’s shoulder blades. He, too, was panting.

Geralt forgot himself a little after that. He was lost in the pleasure washing over him, taking all the anguish of his heat with it. It was like he was burning up in a good way. Like becoming a single creature with another being. His instincts told him what he’d denied himself for so long: to be had by an alpha, to be fucked and bred and feel good about it. If that was what it was like, if he could have that every time he had to go through another heat, he wouldn’t even mind much.

He craned his head, making room, when Emhyr leaned down to kiss the crook of his neck. Geralt was shivering uncontrollably at that point. There was a steady chorus of thoughts in his mind, begging for Emhyr to bite him, to mark him as his. To bond them.

Despite all that, he went very still when he felt teeth. Emhyr had to have noticed. He didn’t bite down, to Geralt’s surprise, but withdrew, pushing himself upright again and setting a harder, almost punishing pace instead. Geralt couldn’t help but whine. It hurt, it hurt so good, he’d be able to feel it in the morning. He wanted to still feel it in the morning, wanted Emhyr as deep as he would go, wanted to take everything that was given to him and then some.

Emhyr pulled him upright with an arm across Geralt's chest, Geralt's back pressed to his chest. The new position allowed Emhyr to thrust even deeper. Geralt could do little more than moan in pleasure. He was holding on to Emhyr's arm for dear life it felt like. Getting bitten like this would be so easy. His head lolled back to rest on Emhyr's shoulder. He wanted this, wanted it so much it was terrifying. Emhyr kissed his cheek instead, gently, licking away a bead of sweat after. Geralt's chest tightened with some kind of feeling he couldn't quite place. He hadn't expected Emhyr to be tender with him, not like this. He clenched around the cock still lodged inside his ass. He was so close, so close to the first real relief he'd felt since his heat began. Emhyr let out a single gasp as he came, deep inside, his blunt nails digging into Geralt's side as he rode out his orgasm.

Geralt collapsed boneless into a puddle of his own fluids as soon as Emhyr let go of him. He felt exhausted in the best kind of way and temporarily sated. Happy little noises escaped him, only to be come louder when Emhyr laid down next to him, prodding at him until he was cuddled against Emhyr’s side. He hadn’t expected cuddles, but that didn’t mean he’d protest them now that he got them.

Lazily, he started to scratch Emhyr’s chest around the sternum. There was no protest, so Geralt decided he was getting away with it. He’d expected more hair, if he had expected anything at all. It was all a little strange, now that he’d cooled down enough to manage two coherent thoughts in a row. Strange in a good way. He’d had his fair share of bedmates before, during and outside of his heat. But it had never felt this right before. Maybe because he’d never known any of the alphas as well as he knew Emhyr. He couldn’t just walk away in the morning and never speak to Geralt again.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” Emhyr rumbled. When Geralt looked up at his face, his eyes were closed. “Are you feeling better now?”

“A little,” Geralt sighed. He paused. “But I could go for another round.”

Emhyr patted his shoulder. “In a bit. I’m not that young anymore.”

“I’d expected you to say no.” Really, Geralt felt like this heat had burnt the last bits of his head to mouth filter to ashes.

Emhyr seemed to be thinking about his response. “Hm, you would, wouldn’t you,” he eventually said. “Let me put it like this: at this point, it’s hard for me to see the difference between once and more than once.”

“Just tell me how and where you want me,” Geralt hummed happily. “I’m all yours.”

Emhyr stiffened. He didn’t respond out loud, but he was shocked enough to not draw breath for a moment. “Why must you…” he sighed, tightening his grip on Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt grinned. Getting any kind of emotion out of Emhyr—well, it’s mostly anger, but he takes any—is always a feat. One he liked to take on as often as possible. So, he added, remembering the way Emhyr’s lips had felt earlier, “If you wanna kiss me, kiss me.”

He had expect Emhyr to tense up again, to maybe even splutter. He hadn’t expected Emhyr to squeeze his shoulder and lean down just enough to press a kiss against his forehead. Like one would with a child. “There.”

“I said kiss me,” Geralt grumbled, struggling half-heartedly against the hold. He didn’t really want Emhyr to let go. He just wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

“Geralt…” Emhyr loosened his grip. He sighed. Geralt was prepared to be told to shove off and for Emhyr to leave. He wasn’t prepared for Emhyr to push him flat on his back, rolling over him and keep him down in one fluid motion. He certainly wasn’t prepared for Emhyr to take his face into both hands and kiss him. The kiss took Geralt’s breath away. He hadn’t been kissed like that in all his life. There was feeling behind it, a little bit of desperation, and a lot of heat. Geralt was bucking up against Emhyr before he even realized what he was doing, involuntarily spreading his legs as wide as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure it was his heat reacting or if the… thing inside his chest, clawing at him from the inside, was something else entirely. All he knew was that he needed this more than air to breathe.

Emhyr slipped into him easily like this. They didn’t even have to break their kiss. All that changed, really, was the gentle rocking motion between them. Geralt shuddered. He’d wrapped his arms  around Emhyr’s shoulders, clinging to him. He was basking in the tenderness. It soothed the aches of his heat in a way he’d never expected. Like this was how his instincts told him it should be like. Held, kissed, caressed. Taken care of.

It was a cruel twist of fate that Emhyr would be the one providing him with this kind of peace of mind. After years and years fighting over Ciri, after all the nights of sleep Emhyr had cost him, after... there was so much connecting them, entangling Geralt like a web. He could give in now. He felt safe. He could give in, for Ciri, but mostly for himself.

He tilted his head to the side, exposing the crook of his neck again. A hand slipped from Emhyr's shoulder into his hair, guiding Emhyr's lips down Geralt's neck, to where he wanted to be bitten. To where he needed to be bitten to be finally bonded.

Emhyr didn't not bite him. He kissed the spot instead, over and over again. It felt like a promise, instead of utter refusal. And he shifted his weight a little, just enough to thrust even deeper into Geralt. And Geralt forgot what he was trying to accomplish, instead going back to stroking Emhyr's hair and back. He's shaking badly when his orgasm hits, much too soon. He didn't want their coupling to be over so soon. Emhyr stopped for a heartbeat, only to pick up pace after, fucking Geralt through his orgasm and finishing again deep inside Geralt.

Emhyr pulled out and rolled off Geralt a long moment later, leaving Geralt cold and empty. This time, when Geralt shivered, if was from the sweat cooling on his naked skin. Without a word, Emhyr draped the blanket over them both, pulling Geralt back against his chest.

"Didn't you tell Ciri you'd be home late, not not at all," Geralt asked when he realized Emhyr was settling in for them to sleep. Not that he'd be complaining, but it was unexpected. Nice still. However surreal.

Emhyr let out a small huff. "Do you wish I'd leave? You'd been so eager for my presence." He punctuated his words with a small peck behind Geralt's ear. "I will come up with an explanation in the morning."

"Could never get away with that," Geralt sighed. He relaxed into Emhyr's hold again. Sleep is coming for him, soon, on the heels of comfort and content. "She'd be worried sick if it'd be me."

"Yes, which is why she's living with you." Emhyr sounded slightly amused. "We talked about this before."

Geralt hummed in agreement. They had. Both of them had used the hours Emhyr kept at work as arguments why Ciri should remain with Geralt. It was one of the few things they ever managed to agree on. Even though, in the beginning, when Emhyr had wanted full custody of his daughter, he’d claimed to have plans to send Ciri off to a boarding school that cost more than Geralt made in two years per semester. It had been the first time Emhyr had seen Ciri throw a temper tantrum. It had been very effective. And Ciri had very quickly learned that while her father had expectations of her, he also wanted her happy. And so she’d stayed with Geralt, even though Emhyr had insisted on a private school. It was a compromise. They’d become rather good at those when Ciri was concerned.

They hadn’t been as successful at compromising between the two of them. But, keeping their interactions centered solely around Ciri had helped. At least until now.

Geralt stiffened slightly. What if, when Emhyr had slept, decided it had been a horrible mistake? What if he woke up to regret it? What had his heat made him do? What had he done?

“Geralt,” Emhyr muttered, voice rough with sleep. He was lazily stroking up and down Geralt’s arm. “What’s wrong now?”

“Nuffin’.”

Emhyr let out a deep, disappointed sigh. “Talk to me.”

“’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” Emhyr huffed. He let out an annoyed sigh. To Geralt’s displeasure, Emhyr detached himself and turned his back on him. “Wake me if you change your mind. Or don’t.”

Geralt swallowed thickly. Emhyr had been open with him, before, through texts, when he hadn’t needed to be. “’m being an idiot,” he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at Emhyr’s back.

“Yes.” Emhyr turned around again. “You do that a lot, so you will have to be more specific.”

“Fuck you.” Geralt couldn’t stop a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. All was well. All was still normal. He could keep breathing. “You won’t cut me from your life. ...right?”

“Why would I?” There was genuine surprise in Emhyr’s eyes.

“Because…” The surprise had stolen the last bit of confidence Geralt had in his interpretation. “I finally did something unforgivable?”

“What would that be? Asking me for help when you were clearly in distress?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Geralt groaned. “I practically forced myself onto you. And… well…”

“You’re now afraid that having had sex during your heat will change everything,” Emhyr finished for Geralt. “Geralt, I could have left any time. I merely thought…” He sighed. “I wasn’t thinking. But I didn’t want you to turn to a stranger in your desperation. At least you know me.”

Geralt hummed in response, a very indefinite noise. He knew Emhyr’s schedule, he knew how to get a hold of him in emergencies, but he didn’t know anything personal, like favorite food, or what he did for fun, if he did anything for fun. He knew none of the important stuff beyond the fact that Emhyr loved Ciri as much as Geralt did. And yet… in a very small voice, Geralt said: “I almost begged you to bond me.”

“Their heat makes some people do things they don’t quite intend.” Emhyr cuddled back up. There was no other way to call what he was doing, wrapping his arm around Geralt and shuffling close to his back and pressing his nose to the back of Geralt’s neck. “If you did intend to, we can talk about it when your heat is over. If not, well, I won’t push the matter.”

“Clearly.” But Geralt was relieved anyway. He could feel himself slipping into slumber slowly, drifting away to the sound of Emhyr’s breath.

* * *

The morning was awkward. None the least because Geralt had decided it would be a nice to wake Emhyr by straddling him and then spend a good half an hour riding him, once Emhyr was awake enough to get the idea. Weirdly enough, they cuddled again after, Geralt with his head on Emhyr’s chest and Emhyr petting his hair with the hand he didn’t use to operate his cell phone.

“Ciri is asking if I slept at the office,” Emhyr noted after a while. “However, I do believe she already knows I did not. My assistant confessed to telling her that I left the office in the evening.”

Geralt rumbled to acknowledge that words had been said. Only belatedly, he realized that a response was required. “So, what did you tell her?”

“The truth,” Emhyr responded. “Part of it, anyway.”

“Which is?”

“You required help and did the mature thing of asking me for it. And I was too tired to leave after I made sure you were fine.” He smoothed back Geralt’s hair, before digging his fingers into the hair of Geralt’s skull, scratching him there. “She’s worried about you, you know?”

Geralt grunted. It was hard to have a conversation when he was this comfortable. If it were up to him, he’d close his eyes and doze. The scratching felt really good.

“I turned off safe search for her,” Emhyr added after a while. “But she seems to want one of us to tell her what’s wrong.”

“Already promised I would,” Geralt rumbled. He could get used to having their talks about how best to raise Ciri like this. “Unless you insist…”

“Not particularly. She will ask what I did to help, I expect.”

“Great,” Geralt sighed. “Just great.”

Emhyr hummed in response, but kept petting. “Should I tell my assistant that I will not be in the office today?”

“Why?”

“I thought you might want more company, seeing how clingy you still are.” It was a neutral observation, Geralt thought, but he could have sworn he’d heard a hint of amusement.

“You’re comfy,” Geralt mumbled, and, because his instincts still did at least half his thinking, added, “You smell nice, too. Safe. Like family.”

Emhyr’s hand stilled on the back of Geralt’s neck. Geralt could hear his heart skip a beat, before it started to beat faster. Everything else, Emhyr’s breath, his entire body, stayed consciously relaxed. Not for the first time, Geralt was thoroughly impressed by Emhyr’s self-control. “I will tell my assistant then.”

As this conclusion didn’t need a response, Geralt closed his eyes again and allowed himself to doze. He felt like he hadn’t gotten any proper sleep in days, so that was nice. An extended rest was very nice, even without the way Emhyr was still petting him while he kept typing on his phone, no doubt writing extremely important work e-mails.

It took Geralt a while to get back to being fully awake. But even in his sleepy state, his mind kept mulling what he’d said to Emhyr, and how it fit with the texts Emhyr had sent the day before, about how the problem he had with Geralt was at least partially that while they shared Ciri, they had nothing that bound them together. Or hadn’t, up to now.

“You want me to be part of your family the way Ciri is, instead of just the stranger who raises her,” Geralt tried his conclusion out loud. It fit. Emhyr had all but confessed to being jealous the night before, of an undefined stranger Geralt might have begged for sex instead. And “you are not mine” was difficult to understand in a different way. “How long?”

Emhyr sighed. His hand had stilled on Geralt’s head. He put the phone down on the nightstand. “How long what?”

“Emhyr.” Geralt wanted to sigh too. “I know you. So, cut the crap, how long have you… been you about this? I’m slow, I know. But, you, you don’t lie to yourself. You make up your mind and then force the rest of the world around it if you have to. So, how long?”

For a long moment, Emhyr didn’t respond. Geralt was almost afraid that Emhyr would push him off and leave and they’d go back to stilted mails and relaying messages via Ciri, as they had in the beginning and after any bigger disagreement. “Long enough,” Emhyr said softly. “I think I owe you this honesty. It’s been long enough that I can be sure.”

“Think you could do family life?” Geralt wanted desperately to ask about feelings, but he was too much of a coward to do it. Maybe, when his heat was over and Emhyr couldn’t hide behind that excuse anymore, he’d do it. Or not, if they’d found another delicate balance by then.

“No.” And there was a little humorless chuckle in Emhyr’s voice. “But I could try, a couple of days a week and on weekends. Delegate more, work less.”

“Get dragged to all of Ciri’s school things,” Geralt added with a grin. “Pick her up from training in the evening and driving her to competitions on weekends.”

“Be proud of her together.” Emhyr’s voice was so soft Geralt had to strain to hear the words. Hell, it was a powerful argument. He even liked the idea. Now that he heard the option, he kind of wanted to watch her graduate in a couple of years with Emhyr by his side, not their usual few paces apart but holding hands. Sharing in their pride of how far she’d come and what she’d achieved.

Geralt turned his head to look at Emhyr. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Geralt wasn’t sure if he moved first or if Emhyr pulled him down into a kiss first. Not that it mattered. He sighed happily into the kiss. Nobody had ever thought of offering him a possible future before. It was entirely new, in a good way. It helped, too, that his body clearly wanted more of Emhyr, too. He swung his leg over Emhyr’s hip so he could straddle him again. Not just because it made the kiss much more comfortable and less of a strain on his neck.

"You're doing a great job selling the idea to me," Geralt said between deep kisses. It didn't escape him that Emhyr had instinctively put his hands on his hip or how both their bodies were reacting almost instantly to the new position. "So, what's the catch for you?"

Emhyr pulled a face. "I'm still not entirely sure if I like your personality."

"That's a lie." Geralt grinned. "I know for a fact that you like my personality." At Emhyr's raised eyebrow, he elaborated: "You engage in arguments with me clearly for fun or sport or something like that, not just because you want to be right. You try not to laugh at my bad jokes. It doesn't always work. And... well, with Ciri, you back me up, even when you don't entirely agree."

"Sometimes, you can be very much exhausting."

"Really?"

Emhyr shook his head. "I'm quite certain I don't mean it in a bad way."

"Ciri would be happy if it worked," Geralt tried another angle.

"And devastated when it doesn't anymore. I'm not an easy person to get along with."

Out of pure spite, Geralt pinched Emhyr in his side, making him squirm just a little. "Next you'll tell me I deserve better. Which, for the record, I don't."

Emhyr pressed his lips together, as he often did when Geralt took his next point from him. "Would you be happy?"

Geralt looked at him dumbly. Only belatedly, he got out a feeble "what?" as his response.

"I asked if you think you'd be happy with me," Emhyr repeated slowly.

Geralt hid his face against Emhyr's neck while he struggled for a reply. He hadn't even thought about it. In none of his previous relationships, he'd been asked before whether he'd be happy. Hell, a lot of the time, he hadn't been asked that during the relationship. And now Emhyr—of all people, Emhyr!—was considering his feelings to determine whether they could have more than sex during Geralt's heat. Emhyr ran a hand down Geralt's back. "You don't have to answer right now." Geralt nodded, not yet daring to move.

* * *

Ciri arrived after school. Emhyr and Geralt had half expected her to, or more accurately, Emhyr had insisted they leave the bed around lunch and then nagged and prodded at Geralt until they were both fed and showered and then decided that they spend the afternoon on the couch reading. He'd been rather adamant about not doing anything that would lead to more sex, but had relented a little when Geralt had whined about cuddling. Which was why Ciri found Geralt with his head on Emhyr's lap, half-dozing, half-reading. She spent a solid ten minutes cooing about how Geralt got actually taken care of and then another long while fussing about to make sure Geralt really was getting better and was comfortable and not as "sick" anymore.

After that, time blended together for Geralt for a while. He had two more days of heat, but they were mild. He sat Ciri down that weekend to have the Talk about heats and what it sometimes meant to be an omega. It wasn't as awkward as Geralt had feared, but still pretty uncomfortable. At least Ciri seemed still convinced that Emhyr had no interest in Geralt as an omega. Between going back to work and Ciri and household duties, Geralt still found a surprising amount of time to think about Emhyr. He'd made it a rule to send at least a text a day. Within half a week he'd realized he was much more likely to get a response when he wrote something provocative or outrageous. Emhyr complained about the tactic, but he still engaged so Geralt figured it had to be okay. After a month, Geralt had mostly forgotten about his heat.


	2. Consequences

Roughly two months after, Geralt started to feel nauseous in the morning. At first, he put it off as a bug or food not agreeing with him. But when it didn't go away after a week, he started to wonder. He'd also gotten a little softer around the middle which irritated him. He still needed another two mornings being sick at the smell of food to consider that he had been, in fact, been an idiot. The pregnancy test he took, and definitely didn't hyperventilate over, confirmed his assessment. He was a colossal idiot.

He texted Emhyr as much once the initial panic had died down a little. He'd been smart enough to wait until after work with the test and then procrastinated until after dinner which turned to until after Ciri's bed time. So at least he didn't have to hide his emotional turmoil from her.

Emhyr responded with a gif of Willy Wonka asking to be told more, which made Geralt scowl at the screen. Why Ciri had felt the need to teach her father how and when to use gifs was beyond Geralt. He suspected Emhyr only used them to annoy him.

«Remember how I thought we didn't need condoms?» Geralt typed and then deleted. He tried a couple of more ways to break the news. None of them felt right. In the end, he opted for a picture of the positive test and a heartfelt «fuck!».

It took a while for Emhyr to respond to the message. It felt like hours, but that was because Geralt was staring at the tiny little check marks for delivery the entire time, then started to pace with his phone in hand when they turned blue for read, and then finally sat down to brace himself when the typing stopped. «This is yours?» Emhyr had asked. Not ecstatic, but Geralt decided to take it. Better than any negative reaction, anyway.

«Yes» he simply wrote back.

«Thank god it’s not Ciri’s.» The response was so fast and heartfelt it made Geralt snort from its absurdity. His panic came back in full at Emhyr’s next text. «You realize this is entirely your own fault?»

Geralt pressed his lips together. He didn’t need to hear “I told you so”. «Yes» he sent again.

«What do you need?» The message had Geralt have to do a double take. Did that mean Emhyr actually cared? It sounded like he did.

«Fuck if I know» he answered honestly. «A time machine?» Deflection. Real good coping mechanism when he was panicking, really, he could almost congratulate himself for it.

«I could offer reassurance?» Geralt stared at the text. Weird. It was decidedly weird that Emhyr was being nice and caring. He wasn’t sure if he’d been able to deal with the usual jabs and sarcasm but at least those were familiar. «It will work out. One way or another. It’s not a catastrophe. And you’re too old to treat this like the end of the world. Especially considering you’ve already very successfully raised a child.» The reassurances actually did make it easier to breathe again for Geralt. But what really did it was the text Emhyr decided he had to tack on at the end. «Panic is bad for you both.»

Geralt managed a pained grin. «Fuck you.»

The next response took a while. It had Geralt consider the wisdom of doing this by text. «I’ll send you a list of recommendations on what you should consider and do now so you have something to work through.»

Thoughtful. Sensible. Still entirely too helpful and nice for Emhyr. “Who the fuck are you and what did you do to Ciri’s father?” Geralt muttered to himself. Maybe this was Emhyr’s way of dealing with the news and his own feelings. He’d been through this before, after all. Not entirely like this, he had been married to Ciri’s mother when they had her, and bonded too, but something close to it anyway. «...thanks?» Geralt texted back.

«Have you thought of whether or not you want to keep it?» It was a plain, open question. No pressure either way, as neutral as possible. And yet it had Geralt feel like a cold wave had just washed over him. One that left him determined, before he could even think too much about it. He wanted this. He wanted the child growing inside of him. They’d find a way to make it work. For the child to have a good life. Overwhelming was too narrow a word for what he felt at the swirl of thoughts and vague notions inside his head.

«I want it» he wrote with conviction. «I definitely want to keep it.»

Emhyr didn’t judge. No good, no fine, no snappy bite. Just the promise: «I’ll send the list then momentarily.»

The list Emhyr eventually emailed wasn’t as long as Geralt had feared. He read over it and couldn’t help smile. It sounded like Emhyr had just written down what had come to mind in the order that he had thought of it. Almost disorganized by Emhyr standards. So maybe the news were getting to him, too.

1) OB-Gyn appointment to have pregnancy confirmed/questions answered/to make further appointments (likely a high risk pregnancy, doctor will want close monitoring)

2) decide when tell Ciri about it

3) related to the above: how involved do you want me

4) diet changes? (Talk to doctor)

5) how can you reduce stress? (e.g. more weekends without Ciri, putting parental taxi services in my hands, etc.)

6) pro/con lists can help make up one's mind

7) if you decide to raise the baby alone at least let me pay for necessities

8) don’t panic as much, it’s all good

9) more talking to friends? Me? Talk to someone about it 

10) relationship status? (can be put off the longest)

Geralt read over the list again, annotating it in his head. He’d have to wait until the morning to call his OB-Gyn, so there was nothing he could do about that. He hadn’t seen the doctor since his last cancer screening. It was always awkward to visit. Male omegas weren’t exactly the norm. There was always at least one person who made him feel like he was intruding in a space where he didn’t belong. Maybe he should just drag Emhyr along, so Emhyr could glare at those people. Emhyr was very good at that.

Which partially answered point three on the list. He wanted Emhyr involved enough to make his own life easier, by shoving everything he couldn’t handle as good as Emhyr could off to him. Beyond that… He glanced at point ten. Well. He wasn’t entirely sure. They had done a very good job not talking about what had happened during his heat in the past two months. But it had felt like they were family, more than before. It could work. He wanted it to work.

As for the other points… He skimmed over the list again. Six and eight were just to reassure him. He wasn’t even sure why Emhyr had even included them. Nine… He thought about his friends and decided to put those talks off as long as possible. He didn’t need to be told he was a complete idiot by anybody else. Seven was tied up with the whole Emhyr question. Four, he’d have to address with his OB-Gyn when he went in for an appointment. For now, he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t drink alcohol until then. Five, he had no idea, though he wouldn’t protest if Emhyr was driving Ciri around more. He’d handle that as it came up.

That left only the second point. The one he’d put off on purpose. A part of him desperately wanted to tell Ciri the news. Hell, that part of him was even excited about telling her. But sense told him that he should figure out what there was between him and Emhyr first. He knew her well enough to expect her to ask about it. She wasn’t that much of a child anymore.

He’d answer the question later. For now, he went to bed, feeling much calmer than he had before he’d talked to Emhyr. It would work out, one way or another, he repeated to himself, brushing his hand over his belly. It had to work out.

* * *

Getting Emhyr to come along with him to the OB-Gyn later that week turned out to be only a matter of texting him the time and date. Emhyr even went so far as to offer to pick Geralt up for the appointment. Geralt declined, reasoning his work was too much out of the way for Emhyr. In truth, he was nervous about the appointment and didn’t think spending any time alone with Emhyr in close proximity was going to help with that.

So, they met up in front of the doctor’s office. Geralt wasn’t even sure how he wanted to greet Emhyr. They’d spoken over the phone once since he’d told him about the pregnancy test and that had gone so fantastic they’d decided to go back exclusively to texting again. Some of his insecurity had to have shown, because Emhyr asked him, “Are you sure you want me here?”

Geralt nodded. It earned him a raised eyebrow, but Emhyr didn’t press the matter.

Geralt hesitated. It was all getting so real now. Once the doctor had confirmed the pregnancy, there was no denying it to himself anymore. He felt a little faint.

Emhyr put a hand on the small of his back. "Are you alright?" he asked. His eyebrows were drawn ever so slightly, making him look worried.

"It's a lot," Geralt managed to get out. "I didn't imagine I'd ever come here for this three months ago. Fuck..." He was shaking, only a little, but Emhyr had to have noticed.

"Give me your insurance card, I'll handle the paperwork." Emhyr's voice was firm. With the hand on the small of Geralt's back, he was directing them towards the entrance of the doctor's office. Geralt was only too happy to let Emhyr handle all the annoying parts. It would let him concentrate on getting through it.

Geralt sat down in the waiting room while Emhyr talked to the nurse at the reception counter. He tried to make himself as small as possible, drawing his shoulders in and lowering his head, to avoid the stares. As almost every time he came, there were only women waiting for the doctor, with only the odd husband tagging along and looking rather disaffected. One of them shot Geralt a decidedly dirty look. The man said something to the woman next to him that sounded very much like "omega freak". Geralt did his best to get his uncomfortable waiting room chair to swallow him whole.

He couldn't even bring himself to relax once Emhyr was sitting next to him. His hand was unsteady while he filled in the form Emhyr had handed to him on a clipboard. Geralt only hoped the nurses would be able to read what he was scrawling.

"Is it always like this?" Emhyr asked softly. Geralt looked up to see him glare daggers at the guy who'd insulted him earlier. Now, the man looked uncomfortable and not like he'd dare repeat what he'd said. Emhyr was impressive at being scary.

"Yeah," Geralt whispered back. "But the doc's good and the nurses, too. Besides, I didn't have to come here often before."

Emhyr took Geralt's free hand and squeezed it briefly. "You're never coming here alone."

With a slight huff, Geralt squeezed back. "You don't have to play the overprotective alpha for me."

"I am not playing anything," Emhyr huffed. "I don't like the looks that guy is shooting you."

"Possessive?" Geralt looked at Emhyr. "Gonna be like that, huh?"

It was obviously the wrong thing to say, because Emhyr immediately pulled his hand back. "I'm well aware of my position with you."

Geralt reached out and forcibly held Emhyr's hand again. "No. I like it."

For a second, Emhyr’s expression was unreadable again. Geralt hesitated for a moment, then took his chance to lean against Emhyr while he filled in the rest of the form.

"The nurse wants to do a physical on you," Emhyr said softly after a long while. "Height, weight, blood and urine samples. I'll wait here for you."

Geralt nodded. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go of Emhyr’s hand for that. He trusted the nurses, but he didn’t trust himself. When they called him over for the physical, he went like in a dream, his ears filled with white noise and everything else slightly distant. He barely felt the needle in his arm when the nurse took a blood sample, he stood stock still on the scales until she’d noted down his weight and then did the same at the stadiometer. He couldn’t have said later how he’d filled the cup for the urine sample but he had to have done so.

When they were done, the nurse patted his arm. “All done now,” she told him with an encouraging smile. “I’ll call you when the doctor’s ready.” She paused. “I have to ask, but, is this an unwanted pregnancy? Is he… forcing you to anything?”

Geralt blinked at her. “What?” Then his brain slowly started to catch up. “No. Fuck, no.  It’s all a bit unplanned and…” He thankfully collapsed on the chair the nurse pushed him towards. “Unexpected. I mean, fuck…” He buried his face in his hands. “We already have a teenager. Adopted, for me, but still. And I’m so… well, old. I’m so old and I should have my shit together so much better, and it’s still so fucking much.” He looked up at the nurse when she put a hand on his shoulder. “I thought I was way past the age for a child of my own.”

“Change can be scary,” the nurse said, squeezing his shoulder. “And this is a big change. But if you already have a child, you know what you’re getting into. You’re financially stable. And if your partner is raising your first child with you, you will manage a second together as well.”

Geralt took a deep, shaky breath. “Thanks.” He smiled weakly. “You must be getting these kinds of breakdowns a lot, huh?”

The nurse smiled. “Occasionally.”

“Right.” Geralt rubbed his face with both hands. “Alright. I can probably go back to the waiting room without throwing up now.”

"Do tell as soon as you change your mind about that," the nurse laughed as she helped Geralt to the door. "We do have toilets and emergency buckets."

"Will do," Geralt promised. He felt relieved when he entered the waiting room and the guy from earlier and his wife were gone. Emhyr was leafing aimlessly through a magazine, looking bored. He looked up when Geralt sat down next to him again. "Feeling better?"

Geralt nodded. "The nurse set me straight."

"Good." Emhyr went back to his magazine, but not before he'd put a hand on Geralt's leg.

It took another while that felt like eternity before they were called into the doctor's office. Or better, Geralt was called and Emhyr came along like he had every right to. Geralt felt very thankful for that. He felt even more thankful when they waited in the office and Emhyr took his hand again, stroking it soothingly with his thumb.

The doctor was reading a file a s he came in, nodded at Geralt and then frowned at Emhyr for the fraction of a second. The frown was gone by the time the doctor was sitting at his desk. "Mr Rivia, hello," the doctor greeted. "And this is...?" 

"Emhyr,  er,  the father and... uh... my partner," Geralt said vaguely. 

The doctor looked back down at his file. "It's highly unusual for an unbonded, unmarried omega to be in your position, even today."

Emhyr squeezed Geralt's hand. They exchanged a look. "I'm a widower myself," Emhyr explained. "As such, I have been hesitant about another bond or marriage. Geralt's  thankfully  been very understanding about it."

"Look," Geralt sighed. He felt strange having to defend something he couldn't even stick a label on yet. "We're already raising his teen daughter together. Our relationship is stable. Can we just... get to the whole pregnancy stuff? Please?"

"Very well." The doctor appeared to be a little put out. "You said on the phone you already took a home pregnancy test?" At Geralt's nod he went on. "Today, they have only a very low chance of false positives, but to be entirely sure, we should do an examination. Do you roughly know how far along you are?"

Geralt nodded. "'s been about two months, eight or nine weeks since my last heat."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "In that case, I'd suggest an ultrasound as well, to make sure everything is in order." He motioned at a privacy screen at the side of the room. "If you'd undress and change into the  provided gown, please." 

Geralt shot Emhyr an alarmed look. He got his hand patted in response. Grumbling softly to himself, Geralt slunk behind the screen and took off all his clothes. The gown didn't help him feel less vulnerable. It barely covered anything.

Sitting down in the examination chair still took almost all of Geralt's courage. It left him horribly exposed and vulnerable, even before his feet were lifted and put in the stirrups. Emhyr was by his side and petting his hair, probably just as aware as Geralt was about how Geralt was clutching the armrests.

"This might feel a little cold," the doctor murmured. It was all the warning Geralt got before he felt the cold lube against and then inside his ass and fingers prodding and probing him. He gripped the armrests even harder. The doctor hummed a little. "Yes, your body is already adapting to the pregnancy. I'll now conduct the ultrasound examination." The fingers withdrew to Geralt's relief. However, that feeling was short lived, as the doctor put the ultrasound device inside him.

Geralt yelped at the intrusion.

"Just a little further..." the doctor reassured. It felt like he was about to push the device up to Geralt's throat but Geralt clenched his teeth and kept his mouth shut. And then, the doctor turned the device's screen on and smiled at Geralt over the hem of the gown. "There," the doctor said, pointing at a tiny moving spec k on the screen. "See this? That's the heartbeat." 

Geralt stared at the spec k . 

"That's it...?" Geralt managed to get out in wonder. "That's my... our baby?"

The doctor nodded. The image on the screen shifted slightly as he moved the device around slowly. "It looks like everything is where it should be as of now," he said. "All in the right place. You're doing well. You both are."

Geralt didn't know what to say. He felt overwhelmed. There was an immense happiness swelling his chest and threatening to burst it. There was relief, so much relief, that everything was fine. He hadn't even noticed how worried he'd been before the worry was gone. Blindly, he reached up for Emhyr's hand and squeezed it when Emhyr's found his. He leaned his head against Emhyr's side.

The rest of the appointment was a vague blur. Geralt got dressed again. They sat down at the desk once more. The doctor asked a couple more questions, mainly about any known previous illnesses, patiently answered Geralt's few questions, handed out a stack of leaflets and then sent Geralt on his merry way with the strict instruction to make an appointment for the next month for the next checkup.

Once outside and back at his car, Geralt almost collapsed into the driver's seat. Emhyr was standing by the still open door, looking apprehensive, if one knew him as well as Geralt did. "What?" Geralt asked.

"I was wondering." And that wasn't how Emhyr usually started sentences. Geralt sat up straighter. "If you and Ciri would like to come for dinner tomorrow."

A smile broke across Geralt's face. "Do you know how long she's been asking for family dinners?"

"Yes," Emhyr said stiffly. "I was hoping to make it a regular occurrence from now on."

"She'll be thrilled," Geralt grinned.

"And you?" Enhyr pressed, just a little.

Geralt shrugged. "Food I didn't cook, pay for, nor have to clean up after? Sounds perfect to me."

"Could I persuade you to stay after dinner?"

"Sure. If the food's good enough. No bell peppers. They upset the little one for some reason. Can't eat them anymore without getting sick in my stomach."

"Good to know." A smile flashed in Emhyr's eyes even though it didn't make it down to his mouth. "Let me know when you're home safe." With that, he bent down to peck Geralt on the cheek.

Geralt caught him with a hand on the back of his neck before Emhyr could straighten up again and kissed him soundly. "Thanks for coming along. See you tomorrow."

* * *

That evening, Geralt spent his dinner together with Ciri mostly pushing the food around on his plate. Whatever he did, his thoughts always returned to the tiny beating heart on the black and green screen. Inside him. Relying on him. It didn't help that the food made him slightly nauseous from the smell alone.

"Dad, what's up?" Ciri frowned, looking far too much like her father. Which only brought Geralt's thoughts back to the baby. "You're not listening."

"I..." He shrugged. "Sorry. 's been a long day. And..."

"And?"

"Emhyr invited us to dinner tomorrow. Both of us. Me too." Geralt shrugged again. "Dunno why."

"What?" Ciri squealed. "He finally caved."

Geralt matched her grin easily. "He did. Family dinner, like you asked. Are you sure you're not in trouble?" he teased.

"Right because he'd dine you to help him set me straight." Ciri waved a hand dismissively. "Instead of just bullying you into it. No. This might be good. He's trying. C'mon. Please? Try to be nice, too."

"Alright. I'll try. Promise. And we can do it more often if it's not completely horrible."

Geralt was saved from his dinner when Ciri tackled him with a hug and a torrent of ideas what he could wear, how they could invite Emhyr the next time and what to cook then and a thousand other plans.

* * *

"No. Not gonna wear this." Geralt crossed his arms. Ciri had forced him into a dress shirt. "It's too much. I can just wear a normal t-shirt. Emhyr won't care." And besides, he had the feeling his belly was showing in the dress shirt.

"Dad, please," Ciri whined. "I want this to go well. Wear the shirt. For me. Please." She even tried her puppy eyes.

Geralt knew when he'd lost. "Fine," he sighed. "Just this once." He smoothed the shirt down with one hand. "And now go get ready. Can't be late the first time Emhyr invited me, can we?"

Ciri, the traitor, was wearing her usual after school outfit of ripped jeans and a band shirt. She hadn't bothered to dress up. And why would she. She was spending enough weekends at Emhyr's place to feel like it was somewhat her own home. Geralt made a mental note to put that on the pro side of the "should he and Emhyr have a romantic partnership" list. The drive to Emhyr's place out in the suburbs was so familiar Geralt could probably find his way in the dark. He'd driven it countless times since Ciri had been eight and Emhyr had suddenly been back in her life and by extend in Geralt's. It had been bumpy for years. Then, they'd come to a fragile truce. And now, he was seriously considering throwing their lives together for good.

Ciri didn't bother with the doorbell once they'd arrived. She had a key and was using it as any other time, calling from the doorstep to announce she'd arrived. Geralt followed her inside. She was headed straight for a room at the back, which turned out to be a dinning room. The table was already set for three. He could hear an oven running in the next room and could smell the food. Thankfully, it didn't smell too upsetting yet.

"Dinner's almost ready," Emhyr declared by ways of greeting. He was standing at the door to the kitchen, looking as homey as Geralt had ever seen him. "I made quiche."

Geralt raised both eyebrows. "You cook?"

"Occasionally." Emhyr's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Usually, only for Ciri."

"Father makes a really good pizza, dad," Ciri grinned. She'd hopped over to hug Emhyr in greeting. Emhyr patted her head in response. It made Geralt grin at him.

"You cleaned up nicely, Geralt," Emhyr noted. "Did you expect a more formal dinner?"

"Ciri made me," Geralt grumbled, pulling a face when she stuck out her tongue at him.

"Ah." And that was that for Emhyr, apparently. He looked over his shoulder back into the kitchen. "Dinner's about to be ready. Please, sit down, Geralt. Ciri, would you get the water and juice from the fridge?"

The food was surprisingly good. Geralt felt like he hadn't eaten as much in weeks. There was little seasoning on the quiche, mainly some herbs in the filling. Emhyr had served it together with a green salad with a very light dressing. All in all, something Geralt could definitely get used to.

Ciri spent almost as much time chattering about her week and school and her friends there as she did eating. She was radiating happiness. This had been something she'd wanted for so long and now she'd finally gotten it. Both her parents under the same roof without a fight.

And Geralt wanted to see his little girl happy like this more often. All the time if possible. And why not, their small family was about to get a little bigger soon and they'd have more good reasons to just merge households than not to and...

"I'm pregnant," Geralt blurted out in a lull in the conversation. He heard Emhyr drop his cutlery. Ciri was staring at him wide eyed. She was trying to form words. Geralt could feel his ears heat up all the way to the tips.

“What?! How? When? Why?” The questions came out of Ciri’s mouth in one long breath and almost at once. “Dad?”

Geralt forcefully dragged his gaze up from his plate to her face. She looked worried. A little confused. Not angry, though. “Uhm…” He hadn’t been thinking when he’d told her. He had no idea how to go on from there. “I’m… two months along? Went to the doctor yesterday. It’s… all good? So far?”

“Two months,” Ciri echoed and Geralt could see the gears in her head turning. She looked over to Emhyr. “During your heat.” And then: “Oh.”

Emhyr cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable. It was easy to guess where Ciri’s conclusions had lead her.

“Is that why you invited us?” she asked.

Emhyr pressed his lips together. “In part,” he admitted. “But also… well, there ought to be a few changes now. I think? For Geralt’s sake. And…” He arranged his knife and fork next to his plate. “You wanted this for so long, so when Geralt told me, I thought, why wait?”

Ciri raised an eyebrow at him. She was getting better every week at using her father's tactics against him. "If I'll have to help with the baby, I want a bigger allowance. And I'm keeping my room. Or get the basement for myself."

Emhyr and Geralt exchanged a look.

"Hold on, wait," Geralt tried to pull the breaks on her. "We're not... we haven't..."

Ciri crossed her arms. She was pouting a little. "Why not? The apartment isn't big enough. And it is father's baby, too, isn't it? So if you're together without telling me, why not live here, together, like family?"

There was no flaw in her logic as far as Geralt could see. But it wasn't about logic. It was about that he didn't... the thought made him pause. Maybe he did. But he was too old and had seen too much to think love was the only or even the most important factor. All other qualities he liked in a partner... well, he knew Emhyr. They'd see each other at their worst and still had somehow managed to become friends, through their bond with Ciri. He knew, deep down, that Emhyr had his back when he really needed him. In a strange way, he trusted Emhyr.

"It'd be a big step," Geralt admitted lamely. "And there's a lot of big steps coming up. It's been barely a week. There's a lot to talk about."

"Okay," Ciri said in a way that told Geralt it wasn't exactly ok but she wouldn't push anymore. She could be very grown up when she wanted to be. "I'm going to be a big sister," she said, awe in her voice. "You know you're doing it all backwards, yeah? A kid first, then a baby, then moving in together and having a relationship." She grinned. "Can you see anything yet?"

* * *

"Well," Geralt said once they were in Emhyr's living room, alone. Ciri had asked just about everything that had come to her mind and then some. She'd been disappointed that Geralt didn't have a pregnancy belly yet, but wanted the ultrasound described to her in detail. Eventually, however, not even her curiosity and inclination to meddling could keep her from being a modern teen with a social life anymore. She'd gone upstairs to do something in her room, probably spend the gods only knew how long online chatting with her friends she saw every day at school. "That didn't go terribly."

Emhyr snorted. He was sitting on the couch, a book within reach, and seemed to be waiting for something. "You're an idiot," he said fondly.

"You keep telling me that." Geralt flopped down next to Emhyr. He wondered if he was now allowed to touch. Emhyr hadn't protested being kissed. They had both enjoyed each other's quiet presence before. And Geralt felt exhausted. He took the leap of faith and put his head on Emhyr's lap.

"That was not how I imagined we'd tell her," Emhyr said. His hand was carding through Geralt's hair in a way that felt really nice. "I'm grateful you did most of the talking."

"I think she's right about a lot," Geralt said. "Moving in here might be the best for us all, long term. And..." Deep breath. "You're a good partner."

"I wasn't aware I was anything to you, yet." Emhyr tried to play it cool, but Geralt could still hear the smile in his voice.

"You're my emergency contact," Geralt reminded him.

"Because of Ciri."

"Yeah." Geralt sighed happily when Emhyr found a particularly good spot to scratch. "But you're... you've..." He was struggling for a way to say that while Emhyr had been an egotistical bastard and pain in the fucking ass in the beginning, he'd gotten a lot better over the years without using those exact words. "We're not exactly divided like church and state in raising her, are we?"

Emhyr laughed briefly. It was a nice sound. "I'd argue we're exactly like church and state. Which means that we claim to be separate yet equal, but we act together in close coordination most of the time." He tucked a strand of hair behind Geralt's ear. "Point taken. You're a good partner, too."

"I think I can live with that," Geralt pushed on. "Partners. That'd be good. Equal, too. I'm not gonna stop telling you when to pull your head out of your own ass."

"I'd never expected otherwise." Emhyr took a deep breath, too. "I always kind of liked that about you. Not that I appreciated it in the heat of the moment. But in hindsight, I'm very thankful for it. If nothing else, you saved me from destroying the only good thing I had. A relationship with my daughter."

"You respect me." It wasn't a question. It wasn't quite a demand. It was simply something Geralt believed because he needed it to be true.

"Yes," Emhyr breathed.

"I'm not your property," Geralt went on, feeling like he was walking on cracking ice.

The ice held. "You're very much your own person and I have no interest in ever changing that," Emhyr said. "However, I know I can be jealous and possessive. Is that acceptable?"

"I'll let you know when it's not," Geralt promised. "Not like I'm never jealous either. We'll just have to learn and figure it out."


End file.
